


Comfort

by RunawayDragons



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 18:56:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5386763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunawayDragons/pseuds/RunawayDragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am so okay with my Shepard’s favorite old vid series from when she was a kid being Star Trek: Voyager. Trying to dress up as Janeway, and her mother getting mad at her for calling everything she drank “coffee” when she is 8 years old. It becomes her go-to comfort show, so she always makes sure to have it downloaded onto her datapad.<br/>So based on that headcanon, I wrote this Shakarian fluff...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort

Her head hurts, which is not surprising, but none the less annoying. She is tempted to wander around the ship, distract herself until the throbbing at the base of her skull subsides slightly. Things have been happening at an increasing pace, building up the pressure, to which there will be no release until they hit that Omega 4 relay.  
She has been pacing the small area between her desk and the fish tank, which is once again empty because the fish couldn’t survive not getting fed for the 8hrs while she was on a mission. Cleaning out the tank had been what finally pushed her headache over the edge to a migraine. At least Ben hasn’t kicked the bucket yet, in fact, the small hamster is staring at her in seeming irritation, her constant movement apparently keeping him up. Air rushes out of her lungs as Zila runs her hands over her face, pressing her fingertips into the area above her eyes, they linger there a moment before combing through her bright copper hair. The texture of her hair reminds her she needs a shower, and perhaps the heat will help her relax. 

The shower helped, but the edge is still there, making her feel restless. Her stomach rumbles, adding to her body’s discontent. Frustrated, she grabs her datapad from the desk before stomping into the elevator. The mess is abandoned, which is fine with Zila, as she would probably only growl at anyone who spoke to her right now. It only takes a little scrounging to find something palatable to eat. She isn’t entirely sure what it is, but it tastes good, and was labeled as not safe for turians or quarians, so it shouldn’t make her sick, hopefully.  
She tries to sit at a table, but can’t get comfortable. She grumbles as she searches for a place to sit, not looking at all like the unflappable Commander Shepard. No, tonight she is just Zila, and of course that means the only place that feels right is sitting on the floor next to the cryo-pods, her back to the wall next to the battery door. Old habit from her days after the attack on Mindor, all she is missing is a heavy pistol, and a stack of field rations, to make her feel like she is 18 again; paranoid, and battling the loss of everything she’d known, while dealing with being in a strange place. At least now she isn’t alone as she was then. She has friends here, and a crew that has grown to respect her.  
She settles in, eats her snacks, and watches the old shows she grew up watching as a kid. Her hunger fades away, easing some of her migraine. She gets up once to find something to drink, then resituates herself, back braced once again against the wall, sitting slightly sideways, her weight more on her left hip than her seat bones, legs tucked up tight. The only way she’d be more comfortable is if she had a blanket to wrap around herself. Time ticks by, her body relaxes, some muscles even lessen their clenching. She can feel herself dozing off, but she is too comfortable to move. As the commander finally slips into a well needed slumber, EDI dims the lights in the corridor.

That is how Garrus finds Zila, chin resting awkwardly on her chest, datapa still clutched in her hands, playing some centuries old vid, . He hesitates, unsure of what to do. He’d been unable to get much sleep, so he had finally decided to just get up, and start the day's calibrations and tests of the new weapons systems. Their talks of late had been of the awkwardly exciting kind, where she’d smiled more, her cheeks bright, and those fiery eyes of hers even brighter, leaving him feeling flushed himself, and his tongue finding ways of embarrassing him at the worst possible moments. And then she’d smile at him again, that one she reserved for their own private jokes, helping him to feel reassured while not lessening the feeling of excitement for whatever this “blowing off steam” thing might turn out to be. He’d always felt lucky to have her as a friend, and he’d been happy just to resume that friendship, especially after losing his team. Their friendship strong enough to make him willing to have her back for this suicide mission; and he’d still have joined her for it, even if she hadn’t saved his ass on Omega.  
So, carefully, he picks up his Commander, she stirs, but once her head rests against his shoulder she relaxes, pad still held tight in her hands. By the time he reaches her cabin his arms are feeling the weight, he hesitates, unsure of what to do next. He hadn’t been up here before. After considering his options he gently places her on the bed. Curiosity gets the better of him after that, bringing him to the small desk next to the bed, with her personal laptop, and mementos of her past. He’d seen the helmet when she’d brought it back from the Normandy crash site, the red paint oddly bright to his eyes, bringing back memories of the fire and destruction caused by the attack. Next to the helmet is a picture he’d nearly forgotten about. The original crew, they’d posed for a group shot in front of the Mako after surviving the battle against Saren and Sovereign. Everyone is smiling, Ashley holding a picture of Kaidan and Jenkins on one side of Shepard, Tali and Shepard have arms over each other's shoulders, Garrus, Wrex, and Liara crowded in close behind them, the rest of the crew at the sides of the picture. If he closes his eyes he can remember the laughter and the slightly giddy feeling he’d gotten from the synthol. That had been a good day, one of the best before everything went south.  
He isn’t sure why, but he needs to sit down, and does, on the nearest surface, which is the edge of the bed. The datapad is still playing her vid, and now he can hear the dialogue easily in the quiet of Shepard’s cabin. She’d finally let it slip from her grasp, so he picks it up and watches for a couple of minutes, which turns into half an episode. It isn’t long before he’s hooked, he unconsciously gets more comfortable, leaning back so he can recline on the bed, datapad now firmly grasped in his own hands. 

Zila wakes up to the familiar sound of the fictional Captain Kathryn Janeway’s voice dismissing a Kazon from her ship, from the end of an episode in season 2, if she remembers correctly. She yawns, and stretches, then freezes as she realizes that her hand is touching someone else. Her eyes fly open in surprise, an expression that only increases as she realizes there is a turian in her bed watching her favorite old show.  
“Garrus?” she says, trying not to sound too startled or confused.  
“I found you asleep outside the main battery, I brought you up here. And, well, I started watching your vid.” He raises the datapad briefly before continuing, “ I guess I got distracted.” Garrus does his best to sound cool and calm, hiding the embarrassment that he’d let himself get wrapped up in what he was watching, and not left before she’d woken up.  
“Well, now that you’re up, I should go.” He offers a polite smile and starts to sit up, trying his best to make a hasty but respectful retreat. However, before he can actually get up, she rests a hand on his arm in a staying gesture, making him freeze. He automatically makes eye contact, which makes her smile at him, the skin at the corners of her eyes crinkling warmly.  
“Well, did you like it at least? It’s an old Earth show.” She releases his arm as she asks, before she scoots a little closer so she can see the screen of the datapad. Her closeness makes it hard for him to want to move. She’d been pressed up against his side for most of the time she’d been asleep while he watched her show. Leaning on each other, ever so gently, had been a pleasant surprise, giving him more comfort than he would have expected. Mouth suddenly dry, he decides to nod, rather than speak. That is enough of an answer to make that smile of hers return.  
“You know, Garrus, you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. I would love some company to watch a couple more episodes.” She tries to sound nonchalant, but doesn’t quite pull it off. It is that knowledge that she’d really like him to stay, that is conveyed between the lines, and by the ever so slight break in her voice, that makes him decide to remain where he is.  
So they load the next episode, and, about halfway through, she cautiously rests her head on top of his chest to ease the crick in her neck. His breath hitches for the briefest moment, but then he casually lowers his arm from behind his head, letting it come to rest gently across her waist. Shepard bites her lip in an attempt not smile too big, because, now, she is utterly contented, to the point that she is worried she might still be asleep and just dreaming that Garrus Vakarian is snuggled with her, in her bed, watching Star Trek: Voyager.


End file.
